THE SOLITARY FARM

Evening Star, Issue 14308, 5 March 1910, Page 3

THE SOLITARY FARM

By Fioicv,s Home (Author of ‘ Ths Mystery of a Hansom Cab.’ ‘The Crime of the ’Liza Jane,’ ‘The Dwarf’s Chamber,’ ‘The Sacred He»U.’ utc , etc., etc.).

CHAPTER IX. THE COMING OF 01*1100. The fortnight which followed the funeral :f Captain Huxham passed quietly enough it the Solitary Farm. Mrs- Coppersley went several times to London for the pur- 1 pose of interviewing her late brother s lawyer, who had his office in Cade lane. She* said very little to Bella when she returned, and on her part Bella did not ask 1 questions. Had she been more versed m worldly wisdom she would have accom- | panied her aunt to see the solicitor lor , herself, so that she might learn what disposition had been made of the property. I But Bella was an unsophisticated girl, and moreover was so anxiously lamenting the continued absence of Cyril that she neglected needful things. Lister had disappeared from the neighborhood, and Bella had neither seen him again nor had she hoard from him. Considering what had taken place at their last interview, she was inclined to think that Cyril had passed out of her life lor ever, tint something told her that in spite of her unjust accusations he still loved her, and would return. Meantime, there was nothing for it but to wait in patience, and to busy herself with her ordinary pursuits. ' These, had lost their savor for the girl, since tne whole of her mind was tilled with the image n* the man she loved. Pence did not fulfil his threat of informing the police at the end of three days. Bella waited in dread for the arrival of Inspector Inglis to ask her questions con- 1 venting Lister, but the officer never ap- j pealed, and as the days glided by she j began to think that Silas would say nothing. With her aunt she went on Sun- j day to the Little Bethel, and heard him , preach, but he did not seek a private j interview with her. Even when he delivered his sermons he sedulously avoided her eye, so she deemed that he was ashamed of the wild way in which he had talked. What struck her most, about the young man wore his wan looks. He seemed to bo thinner than ever, and his cheeks bad a more hectic flush, while his eyes glittered feverishly, as though ho were consumed with an inward fire. But his discourses became more and more powerful, and were greatly admired by his congregation, who liked melodramatic religirn. Mrs Coppersley was especially loud in her expression of approval. "What a gift." she said to Bella, when they returned home on the second Sunday through the rapidly-yellowing cornfields. “ Ho spares no one.” "And that is just what I like least about his sermons,” retorted the girl. "As a Christian he should bo more merciful." ’* You don’t know anything about it," said Mrs Coppersley. tartly. “ f know what Christ preached.” replied Bella, quietly: ■’and Mr Pence lias not the spirit of His preaching." "In what way, pruy?" " Mr Pence docs not do as lie would be done by. I wonder how he would like to suffer the condemnation which he measures out so freely to other people.” I " Silas Pence is a good man. and no condemnation is possible where he is concerned." cried Airs Coppersley, fervently, and bounced into the house. " Tn that case he should make allowance for those who are not good.” “ Not iit ail,” said the elder woman, {dating her views uncompromisingly. “ The good shall go to heaven, and tho wicked to hell : that’s Scripture.” " As translated by man,” finished Bella neatly; "but the Sermon on the Mount, Aunt Rosamund— l —” i " Bella, you are irreligious.”interrupted the lady, removing her hat and placing it | on the kitchen table. " I won’t have , Freethinkers in my house.'' j Bella raised her finely-marked eye- ] brows. “Your l/ouse ? ” ! •* Vos." almost shouted Airs Coppers- i ley violently, for she felt somewhat "nerv- ' ous as to what she was about, to say. "my house, f didn’t tell yon before, as 1 have, a kind heart, but it is time we understood one another. To-night 1 shall explain myself, so that you may understand your position.” t " You shall explain yourself now,” said Bella, pale but determined. ; "I have no time,” said her aunt brusquely; "Henry is coming for' dinner." "I don t care if Mr Vand is coming to dinner twenty times over,” said Bella, her eyes growing hard with anger. “You have said so much that you must say all. Aunt Rosamund.” * ! " Don't bully and bounce me. miss.” “ I shall act exactly as I please, and it is my pleasure that you should explain what you mean.” j I have to lay the cloth and see to the i dinner. You know that Jane never can cook to Henry's liking. J daresay the meat is burnt and the ” Airs Coppersley was about to pass into the scullery? where the one small servant, over whom ' she tyrannised, slaved at the mid-day meal, when Bella caught her by the wrist. I “ How dare you. Bella?” cried the stout : woman. I ” Como into the drawing-room, out of ; Jane’s hearing," whispered Bella fiercely. | " I shall not wait another minute for an | explanation. This house is either mine or yours." “Aery well. cried Airs Coppersley, bouncing towards tho kitchen door, "if : you will have it, you shall have it. 1 have tried to spare you, but ” "Go on to the drawing-room, please," interrupted Bella imperiously, as she saw the small servant peeping round tho corner; ‘‘there is no need for us to discuss private matters in public." “ The whole parish shall soon know what I am about to say,” snapped Airs Coppersley, and rolled towards the draw-ing-room. “Rolled" is precisely the word to use in connection with Airs Coppersley's way of walking, for she was an extremely stoul well-fed woman, large-limbed anil clumsy. Her round, chubby face was rosy and her eyes were as black as her hair. She did not look uncomely, but there was something coarse and plebeian in her appearance. Although she was iu mourning for her lato brother she could not altogether restrain her flamboyant taste, and therefore wore a rod feather in the hat she had left in the kitchen, and yellow gloves, which she was now impatiently removing. Outside it was extremely warm and brilliant with sunshine, but in the vast drawing-room the air was pleasantly cool and agreeable. The blinds being blue, only a faint light came through them since they were down, and tho cerulean atmosphere was almost religious in its feeling. Bella, over sensitive to tho unseen, in spite of her ignorance of psychic phenomenon, felt the grave influence! but her aunt, being of coarser fibre, bounced red-faced and hot into the room, openly cross at having been summoned to what w:is likely to prove a disagreeable interview. “Henry will bo here shortly,” she said pettishly, “and ho doesn’t like to be kept waiting for his meals.” “On this occasion ho must wait,” said Bella dryly, “it will do him good.” “ Don’t speak of Henry in that tone, miss: you know he is the most amiable man in the world.” "Your speech about his impatience for dinner sounds like it. However, wo need converse only for a few minutes. I understood you to say that this house is yours, Aunt Rosamund.” Mrs Coppersley flopped down into one of the emerald arm-chairs and placed her pudgy hands on her stout knees. “It in,” she said, glancing round the varicolored room with great pride. " The house is mine and the farm is mine, and Job’s income of five hundred a year, well invested, is mine.” Bella grew pale. Mrs Coppersley spoke with such conviction that she believed her to ho telling tho truth. “ -bid what is left to me?” she demanded in a low tone, for the shock took away her breath.

“Your aunt’s love,” said Mrs Coppersley. in a- matter-of-fact. way. “Job asked me to look after you; and ?<> long as you behave yourself I shall do so.” Bella passed over this peety speech. “ Do you mean to say that my father has left everything to you?” she asked, pointedly. “Everything,” assented Mrs Coppersley, with an air of triumph. “Job wasn’t so rich as folk thought him, and although he had enough invested to give him five hundred a year, ho had little ready cash. When my lato husband died he left mo a good sum. Job borrowed this and added it to his own, so that ho might buy Blcacres. I agreed, but only ’ on condition that Job should leave mo the j whole property when ho died. I saw that 1 the will was made, and Air Timson, the Cade Lane lawyer, is now proving it. When probate is obtained, my dear,” ended Airs Coppersley amiably, “ I shall marry Henry and will bo happy for evermore.” I “What about me?” gasped Bella, utterly 'overwhelmed. “You can stay here until yon marry,” I said Airs Coppersley coldly, “as I am a Christian woman, and wish to obey Job’s request. Ho left you to me as a legacy, so I will look after you; only behave yourself. ” “ Do I ever do anything else'.'” asked Bella bitterly. " Oh, dear me, yes," returned her aunt complacently. “You nnj after men.” Bella rose with a flushed cheek. " That is .a lie.” Airs Coppersley rose, also in a violent rage, and quite glad to vent her petty spite on one who could not retaliate. “Oh, I’m a liar, am I?” she said shrilly. “ You call me a liar when I am only keeping you out ol charity ” “ Stop!” Bella flung up her hand and spoke firmly, “ You are not doing that. Aunt Rosamund. In one way or another you have persuaded my father into leaving you what is rightfully mine. But I shall I see Mr Timson and read the will. You : shall not have it your own way alto- | gelher.” Airs Copperslcy snapped her large linger and thumb. “ Go and seo the will, _ by all means,’’ stie scoffed, in a coarse voice, j “You won't find any flaw in it, as I was ' careful that it should be properly drawn up. 1 have a. perfect right to the farm, as my money helped to buy it.” "So be it. Keep the farm, but give me the income. That at least you have no I right to retain.” I "I have the right of possession, which is nine points of the law, miss,” said Mrs Coppersley, violently ; “and the will is plain enough. Job did right to leave the money to me, and not to a chit of a girl like you. who would waste your father's hard-earned money on that wastrel from London.” “ Of whom arc you talking?” " Don’t pretend ignorance, miss, for I won't have it. 1 mean Air Lister, as he■ calls himself, though I daresay he is no better than he should be." “ A'ou have no right to say that." “ I'll say what I like and do what I like. Remember, I am mistress; and as you depend entirely on rne, miss. I order you to give up all idea of this Lister j scamp and marry Silas Pence, who is ” "I shall certainly not marry Silas Pence, or anyone but Cyril,” said Bella in icy tones. “ You have no right to interfere in ” Airs Coppersley stamped and interrupted in her .turn. ‘ No right! no right!” she bellowed Tiriou.-iy. " I have every right. This house is mine, and the food you eat is mine. If I turned you out you would have to starve, for I am certain that your line lover would have nothing to do with you. He’s a bad man; your lather said so." “ My father knew nothing of Mr Lister.” "He know that he was bad—ho said as much. AVhy”—Airs Coppersley pointed ; a fat linger towards the round table iu the centre of the room. There's a photograph of him, and in a silver frame, too. i What extravagance ! How dare you si«nd my money on silver frames?” | She dashed forward to seize the photo- , graph of Cyril, which Bella had brought | down from her bedroom and had left miI thinkingly on tho table. Doubtless Airs I Coppersley would have destroyed the porj trait, but that Bella secured it before the good lady could reach the table. "Air l.istt”- gave-me this,” said Bella, pnHing it behind her back. “Frame arid all, it is mi lie." "And you dare to bring into the house the picture of a wicked profligate whom your father hated !" roared Airs Copper.s- . ley, her red face shining with perspiiu- ! trim ami her little eyes flashing with wrath. " Aly father being so good himself," said ' Bella, ironically, and feeling quite cool. "Air .Lister i? not a profligate, Aunt Rosamund, and you are a bad woman.” .Mrs Coppersley gasped like a dying dolphin. "Ale a bad woman!” she cried, puffing out iter cheeks ludicrously; “me, dvhen Henry says that I am the best woman in rhe world. And I'd have you know. Bella, that I'm a lady and no l woman, miss—so there!" ! 'the girl, iu spite of her grief and dismay, laughed right out. " Even a lady must be a woman," she observed, sarcasti- . rally. i " Leave my house! leave my house!” panted Mrs Coppersley. " No. I thall remain here until I know ; if the will is correct. I shall stay hero, j as I say. and shall receive polite treatment. If I do not. I shall dispute the I will, mid make things unpleasant." | Mrs Coppersley snapped her fingers. "That for ;,ll the harm you can do," she said, coarsely. “The will stands god iu law. I have made sure of that by consulting Mr Timson, who drew it up. Y'ou can stay Lon for a week. At the-end of that time you pack up and go." “Where to, Aunt Rosamund?" “That’s your lookout, miss. But you don’t stay here to spoil my honeymoon with my darling Henry." Bella shrugged her shoulders. It really was not worth while losing her temper with a person whoso methods worts so crude. The move enraged Mrs Coppersley became the cooler Bella felt. “Do you know what you are, Aunt Rosamund?” she remarked, roolly. “ You arc a bully and a, petty tyrant. "While my father was alive you cringed to him because you were afraid. Now that you think you have the whip hand of me, you vent your spite on one whom you think cannot retaliate. If 1 had the money you would cringe to me. As you have it, you take every advantage of your position. But.it won t do, .Aunt Rosamund, for I am not the girl to submit to your insults. I shall slop here so long as it pleases me to stop, and if you make yourself disagreeable I shall know what to do.” Airs Coppersley’? face grew slowly white, and her mouth opened- and shut like a codfish. v Had Bella wept, she would have gone on bullying triumphantly, but this cool, calm, scornful demeanor frightened her. At heart, like all bullies, she was a coward, and knew well that if it were known how she had ousted Bella from her rightful inheritance she would bo unpopular. As Mrs Coppersley liked to be popular, and hoped, by means of her marriage with Vann, her wrongfully obtained income, and her possession of Bleacrcs, to be the great lady of tho neighborhood, she did not wish to drive Bella to extremes. Siio therefore wiped her face, and hedged. “ You mustn’t bo angry with me, Bella,” she said, in quieter tones; “I wish you well, my girl.” “ You wish me just as much as suits yourself," retorted Bella, coolly. “ far you have had everything your own way. Now I mean to look into things for myself. You can go now, and entertain your darling Henry. I shall not corn© to dinner. Send up Jane with some food to my bedroom.” “I shall do nothing of the sort,” protested Mrs Coppersley feebly, for her late rage had exhausted her, and slie did not feel ct|uaL to fighting tin’s pale, steady - eyed girl “ I nave told you what to do; so go and do it!” said Bella, without raising her voice, aud looked. Airs Coppersley squarely in tho eyes. Tho mistress of Blcacres-tried to face down the gaze, but failed, and, thoroughly cowed and beaten, m spite of her better • position, sho slowly retreated, mattering

to herself a vengeance which she was nn-" able to fulfil. , Left alone, Bella gave way. Pride had kept her up during the quarrel with her aunt, but now,' secure from observation, she broke down and wept. Never before had she felt so lonely or so helpless. Cyril was away, and she could not confide in him, and even if he had been present, the terms on which they hod parted forbade confidences. There was Dora Ankers, the | schoolmistress, certainly—a good friend, but a bad adviser, as she knew very little of the world. And there was no one else who could help her iu the dilemma in which she was placed. She had no home, no friends, and—on the face of it no ■ lover. It was a terrible qiosition for a girl who hitherto had never met with serious trouble. Jn spite of the drawn-down blinds and the cool atmosphere of the room, Bella could scarcely breathe, so she moved Ur a side window, drew up the blind, and lifted the lower sash. Outside the brilliance of the sunshine was almost blinding, and through the quivering heads, across the still, stiff stalks of the corn, for there was no wind, she could see the gaudy rod of the scarecrow coat. The mere glint of the violent hue made her head ache, and she returned to the middle of the room to walk up and down, wearily thinking of what was best to he done in the circumstances in which she found herself. The photograph of Cyril in its silver frame she replaced on the table. The muchloved tace smiled encouragingly on her. At least, in her overwrought state, she thought so, and the thought aided her to beat down the many fears which assailed her. ' While musingly walking the room she became aware of a slight noise, and turned abruptly towards the window, to see a black face grinning at her, with very while teeth. At once her thoughts reverted to the prophecy of Granny Tunics, and she felt a sudden thrill of dread as she saw that a black man actually had come to the .Manor-house. For one moment the negro and the fair young girl looked stcadtast-ly at one another, she filled with nervous fear and he curiously observant. After an,almost imperceptible pause —which seemed hours to Bella—the man leaped through the window before she could regain her voice (o forbid his entrance. “Where is my master?'’ ho asked, in guttural tones, but in fairly good English. Bella did not immediately reply, as her nerves fairly thrilled with the weird realisation of what the witch-wife had seen in the crystal, and oven now she had not her voice under command. The negro was tall, bulky, and powerfully framed, coal-black from’ head tn foot, with tightly-curled hair, , and sharp, white teeth, like those of a dog. Bella had never seen so huge and strong a man, but in spite of his formidable appearance, his dark eyes had a kindly look in their depths, and his movements were extremely gentle. Apparently his bark was worse than his bite, though Ids uncivilised looks were enough to awe the boldest. Plainly but roughly dressed in 1 an old tweed suit, with brown shoes and a bowler bat, he was not noticeable, save for hi? stature and enormous virility. Tito , sensation ho produced on the girl was overpowering, yet it was not entirely one of ] fear. lit s'pito of his cannibal looks and unexpected entrance, and imperious demand, she felt perfectly safe. “I am Durgo!” explained the negro, annoyed by her silence, as was apparent from* the frown which wrinkled his eyebrows. “Where is my master?” “I don't know where your master is,” she. replied, finding her tongue with some difficulty. ”1 do not know who your master is.” “ My master,” said the negro, “ i? my master. Tie came here two weeks ago, more or less. I have come to find him. Whore is he?” “ How can 1 tell when I do not even know Ins name?" asked Bella sharply. “His name is ■" Durgo was about to satisfy her curiosity, when he caught sight •of the photograph in the silver frame, which still stood on the- table. T\ ith a guttural cry of delight he caught this up in his huge hands. Oh. my master! my master !” ho gurgled, in ;m ecstasy of delight. Bella stepped hack a pace with a seared look. “Mr Lister your master?'' Durgo nodded, and coolly slipped the photograph, frame and all, into the breast jiceket of hk 4 coat., “Ho is. here! 1 shall find him." he remarked. “Did my master sec Captain Huxham?" “Yes,” she replied mechanically. “ Did fny master and Captain Huxham quarrel “Yes," she replied again, and still mechanically. “ And did my master get what he wanted?” demanded the negro, rolling his eyes, * “ I-dou't know what Mr Lister wanted.’' said Bella, faintly. " Von must explain youi self, and ” "I explain nothing until I seo my master.'’ was Dingo's reply. “Perhaps Captain Hexham knows where my master is.” ■ "Captain Huxham is dead.” she gasped. Durgo shut his strong white teeth with a click. “Dead!" he repeated. "Ah aha—aha! Captain Huxham is dead Then my master " “No.'’ cried Leila, covering her eyes. “ I don't believe that Cyril killed my father—l don't believe, it." " Cyril i father!'’ repeated Durgo. looking at her curiously* “ 1 must learn

’if " He broke off suddenly and moved noiselessly to tho window. Bella stretched a helpless Laud to day him, but, lightly vaulting out of doors, lie disappeared in a moment. Sho rushed to tho window and saw him -.’ruining down tho path towards tho 'boundary channel. There was no chance of catching him up, as sho saw well, and therefore drew back. “ The crystal! the crystal!’’ she muttered to herself, shivering. “ Granny must know what it all means. I must seo granny, and ask about the crystal. , (To bo continued.!